Scrambled City
by Northwest Sage
Summary: Set after the end of the G1 series, this short story is my homage to the Scramble City episode of lore. Featuring the Protectobots and Combaticons.


**_This short story takes place after the end of the Generation One cartoon._**

**SCRAMBLED CITY**

Aboard the Cybertronian space ship "Resolution", Protectobot commander Hot Spot sat comfortably in his captains chair. A three month mission scouting the Dracona system was nearing completion. All that remained was to investigate Dracona itself. It was seventeen-planet solar system with hundreds of moons thrown about in a seemingly random order. The planet Dracona, one half the size of Earth, had been earmarked for energy exploration. As per the standard procedure, each planet in the area was the recipient of various scans with no actual physical contact initially occurring. That was to happen only if substantial evidence was discovered to support further investigation. Annoyingly, none of the planets had shown any traces of energy, so Dracona was their last hope in not returning empty-handed.

"Leave no stone unturned," Hot Spot stated as the ship began its final wave of scans.

"We are now entering orbit," Groove announced to the rest of the crew. "Initiating final sweep of primary scanners." A brief pause followed as he quickly made sense of the last streams of incoming data. "Large deposits of iron ore, crystalline fields, and Zindofaber."

"Any signs of life on the planet?" Hot Spot asked.

Streetwise completed his own scan of Dracona and came up with nothing. "Doesn't look like anybody is home."

"Well then," the powder-blue commander sighed, "Take us down... pilot's discretion."

Blades took great joy in being aloud to land the craft where he wished. Because of his love for thrills he seldom took an easy landing, which resulted in slight panic amongst the rest of the Protectobots.

Thankfully for the rest of the crew, although Blades didn't quite appreciate it like they did, Dracona was relatively flat compared to most of the planets recently came upon. Blades did, however, find one haggard cliff with little clearance and a gigantic drop-off for which to play with. Safely down on Dracona's soil, the ships engines were shut off and the crew made their way outside.

Three weeks after starting their investigation of Dracona, the Protectobots had completed the necessary tests and were prepared to depart for Cybertron. "If these core samples we've collected resonate throughout the whole of Dracona," team medic First Aid stated, "We'll have found enough material for five vorns worth of energy."

"We'll need every bit we can tap," Groove added. "The way the war has picked up these past two cycles, Cybertron is really hurting."

"The new Golden Age of Cybertron," Blades muttered sarcastically. He was referring to the recent and ultimately short-lived planet-wide rejuvenation. "That didn't last very long, now did it?"

An unseen voice entered the picture. "Indeed not," the gruff intruder replied. "Nor shall this little exploration!" From the shadows emerged their visitor, followed closely by his own warrior unit.

"Combaticons!" First Aid shouted as he tried desperately to overcome the initial shock of seeing their sworn enemies. "Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

Hot Spot and Onslaught engaged in the latest chapter of their seemingly never-ending feud. Each loathed the other for reasons both well-known and secret. The Protectobot leader saw Onslaught as an intelligent soldier whose talents could be used for much good, if only he'd abandoned the barbaric ways of the Decepticon Empire. And he silently envied the amount of respect he had from his fellow soldiers, although he didn't approve of the way he held onto it. As for Onslaught's view on Hot Spot, he felt as though his Autobot enemy was wasting his time fighting for the 'losing side' and it angered him to see such talent being thrown away. But Hot Spot had one luxury he longed to own for himself, the opportunity to enjoy those precious few moments when the war was silent and he was allowed to contemplate all things great and small.

"I'm going to rip out your circuits," Swindle boasted as his attacked Groove from behind. "Then I'm going to sell 'em to the highest bidder!"

Groove responded by kicking Swindle in a delicate part of his body, doubling the arrogant black-marketer over and crashing to the ground while shouting pained curses. First Aid, not fond of hand-to-hand combat, or any form of combat for that matter, was having trouble dealing with Vortex.

After several moments of intense fighting, the two warring factions were joined by a number of odd-looking creatures; somewhat resembling the infamous Kreemzek that once wrecked havoc inside the Autobots base on Earth, The Ark. They were similar in outline and width, but stood several feet taller and were deep red in color. While members of both teams continued trading blows and insults, the energy creatures sized up the situation and attacked all foreign bodies. "What are they? Where did they come from?" First Aid asked. One latched onto his back and a sharp pain was felt. They were attempting to feed off of their energon.

"I don't know and I don't care!" Blades answered, kicking two of them away from his lower body. "I thought there weren't any lifesigns detected on this rock!"

"Shut up and fight, Autobots!" Vortex roared, smacking down three energy creatures at one time. "The sooner we dispose of these pests, the sooner we Combaticons can finish you Protectobots off for good!"

"It'll be a cold day in the Pit before the likes of you can send us off-line!" Blades angrily shouted. The numbers game soon dealt the Transformers a losing hand, as they became overcome by their shared enemy. Protectobots Streetwise, Groove, and team commander Hot Spot were left in a heap of badly drained piles, while Combaticons Swindle and Blast Off suffered the same fate.

From the distance, a horrific howl sent the legion of energy-drainers sprinting for the shadows. "What the hell was that?" Brawl asked, somewhat freaked out by the sudden retreat of their attackers. The answer was soon to be discovered. The ground began to thunder in a slow and steady manner, sounding as if a giant was heading their way.

It was.

* * *

"That appears to be a most formidable opponent," Onslaught stated, verbally announcing what everyone was thinking. "This could prove to be... interesting."

"We need more strength," Brawl added. He began to unload as much firepower as he could against the giant being, but surprisingly nothing happened. At least, nothing that could be taken as a positive. Indeed, after being joined by friend and foe alike in a massive release of firepower, the creature actually seemed to increase in size.

"Cease fire, cease fire!" Onslaught barked. "It's just like the smaller beings, it feeds off energy. Our weapons are only making it stronger!"

Hot Spot fought to sit up and found enough strength to interject. "We are too weak to form Defensor, as you are too weak to merge into Bruticus." He cast a concerned look at his more heavily damaged teammates and lowered his head in resignation. "Our pathetic rivalry had doomed us all. Look around," he sighed as the energy giant came ever closer. "Swindle and Blast Off are currently in stasis lock, as are Streetwise and Groove. Congratulations, Onslaught. Despite all your carefully laid plans and calculated maneuvers, the best result you could achieve in our final battle was a draw."

First Aid, who had been deep in thought during the past few moments, spoke out over the sounds of despair. "I may have an idea, one that could save us all. But it's not without risks."

"Get on with it," Brawl snapped. "That thing isn't getting any prettier!"

"There are five of us strong enough to merge."

Vortex had never been a jovial spirit. "You have an uncanny ability to state the obvious, Autobot!"

"Let him finish!" Blades demanded. "While we still have time!"

"It may be possible for us to..."

Onslaught finished First Aid's sentence slowly and with a tinge of disbelief in his voice. "To merge our two respective units into a single gestalt."

"Unconventional, but not unheard of," Hot Spot commented. He remembered a battle between the Aerialbots and the Stunticons that took place years prior. It was a fierce and hard battle, one in which the Protectobots and Combaticons became involved in towards the end, and during the confrontation a member of the Stunticons had taken an injured Aerialbot's place on Superion. The result was agonizing pain and an experience many had tried to forget. "No members of any combiner unit have attempted such an act since the initial Metroplex-Trypticon battle! The risk involved is astronomical."

"No way," Brawl objected. "There's no way I'm letting you wimps inside my head!" The process in which selected Transformers could join together and create a united super soldier was a traumatic experience, for in doing so each of the five minds- five being the established number of Transformers needed to pull off such a feat- would be linked together. The only exceptions to the rule were the archaic Constructicons and their plodding combined-mode of Devestator. Five acting and thinking as one. Every secret, every dream, and all intimate desires and wishes in between would no longer belong to a single mind. "Forget it," Brawl continued. "I'd rather die."

"It is the cowards way to ignore a chance of victory and willingly await defeat," Onslaught scolded. "We will make an attempt."

The Combaticon leader lunged into the air and formed the torso of the mix-match monster they were about to create. Vortex and Brawl followed and formed the legs, leaving a hopeful First Aid and skeptical Blades to form the left and right arms. The energy-sucker was only a few feet away from the abomination, its solid black and mountainous hands outstretched. Long razor-like claws adorned each of the eight fingers hungry for battle.

Hot Spot was excited at seeing the experiment proving successful. "It's working!" he cried out. "How do you feel?" Before an answer could be given, a gigantic fist burst through a nearby rock, sending shrapnel showering down upon the fallen Transformers. Hot Spot rolled out of the way quickly, but was unable to avoid several large chunks crashing down upon his body. Luckily for those inactive, most of the pieces missed them completely. The energy giant sneered and took two more steps, finding himself looking face to face with the Cybertronian equivalent of Frankenstein's Monster.

* * *

A voice never heard before, being a mixture of five souls united for the first time, struggled to vocalize its intention. "**We... will... prevail.**" And for the next several minutes, two giants, one native and one foreign in every way imaginable, went toe to toe in a display of violent combat.

_"The creature is strong!"_

_"Why are we here?"_

_"Now they know... they all know!"_

_"Weak. Simple-minded."_

_"I can feel my circuits burning!"_

_"I should be leader!"_

_"Megatron is a fool and does not deserve to command!"_

_"I miss Cybertron so very much."_

_"Help me, please! Can you help me?"_

_"I never meant for it to reach this point!"_

The Onslaught-led gestalt finally gained a solid grip on the giant and hurled it towards a mountain-like rise. The impact was severe enough to render the creature unconscious, and the resulting avalanche of rock and land imprisoned the creature in a temporary holding cell. Aware of the victory, the five Transformers disengaged.

The five soldiers that had minutes earlier struggled to speak a few words now fought back urges to unleash a thousand different questions. There was no way to know who the originator of each shared thought was, only that everything each member held close was now shared with the enemy. Every secret, fear, aspiration, and regret was known to all who had taken that blind chance and became one. Perhaps what made the participants even more perplexed is that each thought experienced while combined had been thought by each one individually over their lifetime. It had become apparent they were more alike then they wanted to believe. And it was a disturbing revelation.

"My freakin' head," Brawl complained while rubbing his palm against specific pressure points in his face plate. Combining always left the participants drained and weary, and the effect was even more severe for those involved in such a historic happening.

"This Combaticon stench will take vorns to wear off," Blades angrily stated.

"Let me help to ease your discomfort!" Vortex shouted, raising a shaky hand and preparing to fire his weapon.

"No," Onslaught spoke. It was an uncharacteristically hushed tone, void of the usual bravado and ferocity. "Lower your gun."

"What?" Vortex asked with much surprise.

"At the moment, we are all teammates. There will be no more fighting this day." Vortex and Brawl were both angry with their commander for his decree, but dared not to go against him.

Hot Spot slowly got to his feet and walked towards his Decepticon rival. "A truce?"

"For now," Onslaught answered. "Gather your fallen and repair your ship. When next we meet, it will be as enemies." The two still-functioning Combaticons loaded their fellow comatose soldiers Swindle and Blast Off onto their leader's transport carrier and departed the scene without another word. A silent guess pegged the two off-line warriors would need at least ten days to fully recover from the wounds suffered on Dracona.

* * *

Upon learning of what transpired while he and Groove were in dreamland, Streetwise battered Blades and First Aid with a bevy of questions. "What did it feel like? What were you able to learn about them? Their future plans of attack? Who hates who?"

"Give it a rest," Groove pleaded with his inquisitive friend. "They obviously don't feel up to talking about it right now."

"Sure they do, they just don't realize it," Streetwise joked. "So... where was I?"

Hot Spot finally got involved and saved his tired allies from further interrogation. "You were about to perform a routine check of the ships computers."

"Come on, boss!" Streetwise objected.

"No, let it go," the Protectobot leader insisted. "You'll get whatever answers there are to be gotten after they file their report on the incident." Dejected, Streetwise shook his head and went about performing his duty. Hot Spot left his captain's chair and approached both Blades and First Aid. "So," he said in a quiet tone, "What _was_ it like?"

They looked at each other, then towards their leader, and finally faced each other one last time. What had it been like? What words could they possibly use in their report that would do the experience justice. Do they dare speak of the shared fears and angst they discovered? Will the incident cast doubt on their actions in future confrontations, implying some trace of Decepticon programming has invaded their minds? Will their lack of detailed and specific answers show them in an assumed traitorous light?

"I can't remember," Blades bluffed before making a fast withdraw from the bridge. He wanted nothing more than to put the whole thing behind him, buried somewhere in the back of his mind amidst former adventures and missed opportunities. First Aid watched his partner leave, and while he thought about joining him on his retreat, he opted to remain on the bridge.

"Interesting reaction," Hot Spot chuckled. "And what about you? Having trouble remembering too?"

"No," First Aid answered, shaking his head from side to side. "In fact, I doubt I'll ever forget."

**The End.**


End file.
